


Crown and Sword

by Nebulash



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kingdom, Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulash/pseuds/Nebulash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is the prince of his kingdom and heir to his father's throne, though his seemingly fortuitous life as royalty is shadowed by a dark secret. Ben is born of noble blood and dreams of being a Knight, but as a bastard, he is forced into a life of servitude.</p>
<p>When Hux selects Ben to be his personal servant their stories begin to entwine. </p>
<p>A Kylux Kingdom/Knight/Slave!AU All wrapped into one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crown and Sword

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little side project I felt like taking a stab at.   
> For now, this is just a prologue to pave the way for the rest of the story. Stay tuned for more!

My name is Ben Solo. Lady Leia Organa of Alderaan was my mother, but I am the bastard of my scoundrel of a father. Thanks to him I was taken from my noblewoman mother when I was 5 and brought up as a servant in the Emperor’s Castle . My overseer’s name was Snoke and he brought me up with a few other children, all of whom succumbed to various diseases over our time at the Castle . Servants were not given proper medical treatment so we were prone to falling ill, but not me, I survived. 

For eight years I worked in the bowels of the castle. Emptying waste, washing floors, aiding in the large lavish dinners that the royal family would throw every now and again. I shared a living space with 7 other servants. We were all forced to sleep in hammocks in a room better suited to fit three or four occupants. I dreamed of perhaps one day being chosen to join the Knights of the Order, knowing I would be a much better fighter than I would ever be a server. I constantly tripped and dropped things which always earned me punishment. I had a scar across my face from a hot knife that an angry castle chef used to slash me with when I accidentally tripped and dropped the pot of stew he had just made, pouring it out onto the floor. It was common to learn lessons along with earning scars.I had earned many. 

I would often train in the small amount of free time they would give us everyday, hoping that someone would perhaps see my state of physical fitness and recommend me to the Knights. Eventually Snoke did. He submitted my name to the recruiters that would occasionally come to him in order to take any well-bodied servants away from their life of servitude to fight for the Order. The Kingdom took much pride in its expansive knight and military force and I hoped to at least be able to join even the lowest rank. It was better to die on the battlefield than on your knees, scrubbing the blood stains off of the dungeon floor. 

All of us chosen to at least try out for a spot in the military were taken to a different part of the castle for a three day long training where the weak were to be weeded out to make room for only the strongest potential candidates. Even at 13 I was stronger and capable than many of my peers, and I knew if given the chance to show my skills I would surely make it through these preliminary rounds. 

We were paraded out into a courtyard type area which was suitable for training. Weapons were thrown our way and we were expected to demonstrate our potential to a few notable leaders in the Knights. Among them stands a red-haired boy who seems to be a few winters older than me, and I remember hearing that only those of the royal family had hair the color of fire. I wonder if this is the case with him. I hope the training I have partaken in during my servitude will be enough to prove my worth and value here. I was quite good with a mop handle, but had never even touched a real weapon until this day. 

I pick up what seems to be an average sized sword, though the blade dull and worn and test it out in my hand. It feels heavier than I was used to and quite cumbersome, but I like the way it moves as I swing it through the air a few times in practice. I strike one of the straw training dummies twice and then use all my might to attempt to behead it entirely with my third blow, though my effort proves futile. I can feel the red haired boy's eyes burning into me, and when I direct my gaze to him, I meet his icy blue eyes that are almost as cold as the freezing air blowing around us. He my gaze for a moment, then turns and whispers something to the knight standing to his right. The man nods and calls me over. 

“Do you know who this is boy?” I turn and look at the boy with red hair.

“...I...um” 

“You must bow before the crown prince!” The man’s voice rattles my brain and I instinctively kneel, bowing my head in shame. 

“State your name boy.”

So it was the Prince. My heart races, maybe they had been so impressed by my swordsmanship that they felt like I could skip the next few days of training and move straight into the Order’s military force. 

“Ben Solo Sir”

“Where do you come from Solo”

“...From Alderaan originally Sir...but I grew up a servant of the Emperor’s Castle and am now here to prove myself to you as a candidate for the Knight’s of the Order.” 

I try to sound confident though my voice is anything but. The knight chuckles, briefly turning to look at the red haired boy beside him, who is wearing a satisfied smirk. He clears his throat and speaks, his voice is polished and controlled. Everything about the way he holds himself right down to the way he is dressed is precise and pristine. 

“I am Prince Brydon Hux of the First Order, son of Emperor Brendol Hux, and I am here today to pick for myself a personal servant as my former has just unfortunately died of fever.” He looks me up and down, “I’ve decided you will do.”

I didn’t come here to remain a servant especially not to the prince himself. I was here to get away from that life - to join the Knights. How dare he come here to snatch my dreams away from me. That’s all the royal family ever seemed to do. 

I look up at him from where I am kneeling, desperate to change his mind. “I would much rather...continue my trainin-” 

“SILENCE. Are you saying you would rather deny my wishes and disrespect the crown prince? an offense punishable by death?” 

“I..no..I just.” 

“How did you get that scar? Have you seen battle?”

I lower my gaze..”No...it was punishment for dropping a pot of stew in the kitchens.” Both of my listeners let out a cold laugh.”

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t have been much good on the battlefield eh boy?” the Knight to the right of the Prince chuckles and sighs. 

“Wonderful” The Prince then turns to one of his guards who looks at me coldly, “have him cleaned up and brought to my chambers by sunset.” He then turns to the Knight on his right. “Thank you as always, for letting me select from your potential men. I will put him to good use.”

He then directs his gaze and me and smiles, “I will see you at nightfall...what was your   
name again? Ren?”

“Ben…”

 

“...I think Ren suits you better, and I always rename my servants. It’s a tactic often used by my father to make people feel less human.” He holds my gaze for a few moments and the guards escort me away as the prince takes his leave. They knock the training sword out of my hand, and along with it any chance I ever might have at serving the Knights of the Order -- for fighting valiantly on the battlefield, and of being free of these painful chains that have rubbed my skin raw for 8 years. 

I’m pulled away from the training courtyard and thrust into a river that surrounds the castle. I’m stripped naked and shoved into the water before I can make much protest. It is absolutely freezing cold. There is fresh snow on the banks. The guards push me under and scrub me until my skins is raw; then I am given a basic tunic and cotton pants to wear before I’m carted through the Castle and towards the prince’s chambers. I’ve never been this deep into the Castle before and I take it in my surroundings as much as I can, not quite sure when I will be able to wander freely again. A few of my so called “friends” had been promoted to serve the royal family in my years of working in the castle and I had never actually seen any of them ever again. I wasn’t sure what had become of them. I supposed it was finally my turn to find out. 

I spend a few hours completely alone in the prince’s chambers. They haven’t instructed me to do anything in particular and I do not have my hands bound, so I explore the room, searching through his things. If I was going to be forced to serve here I at least had earned the right to be nosy. The clothing they had provided me with was much nicer than the garments I had worn as a castle servant, and for that I was at least somewhat grateful. I wondered if this was perhaps more of a promotion than I had first realized, though my heart still yearned for the thrill of battle. 

The Prince storms in a while later, causing me to jump and drop the item that I was holding. It’s some sort of box and it crashes into the ground, and to my delight doesn’t break. He sighs in disgust and does his best to ignore me as he walks to his dresses and removes some more suitable clothes for slumber. From what I can see where I stand against the wall, back pressed against the cold stone, slightly relieved at the Prince’s current state of disinterest in me, he has sustained some sort of injury to his eye. It looks as though he had been stricken. Punishment didn’t always leave scars, and I was no stranger to how quite a variety of injuries looked. Who had possibly come close enough to hurt the prince?

“You. Come here. Make yourself useful and help me change.” The way his voice shakes reminds me of the way my own had earlier, when I had been forced to speak on my knees in front of the scrutinizing gaze of the prince and his knights. 

I plod over to him and stand there awkwardly as he waits for me to undress him.   
“Go on then!”  
I fumble with the buttons and latches that make up his outfit but manage to remove them, uncovering the prince’s pale skin, which is covered in light freckles and..bruises? Some are brown and nearly healed, some are blue and purple. I almost speak, my mouth is open and the words are caught in my throat, It might just be my imagination, but a few of the bruises look like hand prints. 

“Don’t. Say anything just….help me get dressed.”

I close my mouth and nod and do my best to help him dress in his night clothes as quickly and painlessly as possible. He keeps his back turned to me, and I refrain from letting my eyes wander anywhere indecent. Servants were taught to look at the floor at all times. It was the only object worthy of their gaze, I had learned this at a very young age. 

“By the fire there is a small cot. That is where you will sleep. In the morning you will help me get prepared for my day. You will serve me my food, start my fire in the evening, make my bed and tidy these quarters when you are not required to be by my side.”

So I was to be a personal attendant and nothing more. Deep down inside of me I had hoped upon seeing those bruises, that the prince had wanted protection when choosing me. Why else select a servant from the handful of boys and men auditioning to join the Knights? I was being wasted here. At least I was only required to do basic cleaning and rather remedial duties at this post. I knew a few of my fellow castle servants whom had been taken far too young for much darker purposes. I am fortunate in a way. Perhaps I should count those blessings.

“You will refer to me as ‘your highness’, and when I ask you a request you will make a verbal response so I know you’ve heard me. Do I make myself clear?”

“...yes, your highness.” my voice is dry and cracked and I hate how grating it sounds.”

“Good. Now go and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day I’m sure.”

He blows out the candle by his bedside and the room goes dark, I find my way to my cot by the fire. The soft red glow of the cinders still slightly aflame as they burn out are just enough to guide me. It’s not comfortable by any means, but compared to the hammock I used to have, in a room shared with 7 other snoring, loud, disgusting people, this was a small piece of heaven. 

It wasn’t the knights, it wasn’t my dream, but it was better, at least for now. I close my eyes and fall asleep quite quickly, dreaming of the battlefield and the excitement and thrill of combat that I would likely never reach.


End file.
